Cheer
by Luxio Nyx
Summary: Lovino watches Italy fall in the UEFA final, wishing that someone would cheer for him. Spamano with a little angst after a great match. Congratulations, Espana! Good game, Italia!


Lovino Vargas stood proudly at the edge of the soccer field, his amber eyes sweeping across the perfect white lines stretching across green like some retarded spider web, his shoulders thrown back with an arrogance that could only be mastered by an Italian as his team sang along to their anthem- _his_ anthem. Beside him, the Southern Italian could hear his twin brother singing along enthusiastically, his perfect tenor voice ringing across the field to join with the choir and the players. Romano smirked and began to sing as well, his voice faltering for a brief moment as he met a pair of bright, sparkling green orbs from across the field, his fingers curling reflexively into nervous fists at his sides as the Spaniard at the other end of the field ran a hand through his curly dark-brown hair and flashed the Italian a bright, nervous, and excited grin that made Lovino's blood flow like fire through his veins.

Romano huffed and turned away, his voice rising once more with his players, his lips quirking upwards into a small, rare smile as the song drew to a finish. He waited patiently as the Spaniards sang, his eyes locked intently on the field once more in an effort to avoid the gaze of a certain Spanish country, to avoid the love and lust that ran through his blood and sent a bright flush of red into his cheeks with each thought of his lover, of last night...

_No_. Lovino shook these weak, traitorous thoughts from his mind and focused on the field as the players lined up in their opening formations, his jaw clenching, his chin raised defiantly in an open challenge to the Spanish champions of the world. Beside him, Italy raised his head as well and flashed a cheerful salute to his favorite player, his hazel eyes flashing with a rare Italian fire before they flickered over his shoulder to meet the cool blue eyes of the German man that sat in the stands behind them, his broad shoulders covered in the reds, whites, and greens of the Italian flag. Lovino bit back a sneer and forced himself to ignore Germany, to forget that the potato bastard was here out of love for his brother before he could feel too much pain.

This was soccer. War. There was no room for love, now... Not for him.

…..

_One_.

Lovino felt a hiss of fury break through his lips as the Spanish scored, his eyes flashing over to the other side of the field, narrowing when he saw Antonio cheer with the rest of his team and hug the nearest player.

The angry Italian snarled and shouted a quick encouragement to his players, his shoulders stiffening when he heard familiar cheers from Spain's side of the field, when he caught sight of France, Prussia, America, and a semi-reluctant England yelling with the rest of the Spanish crowd and waving their red-and-gold flags in the air. Romano felt a small flicker of pain go through him when Spain turned to smile at his supporters before he returned his attention to the field.

Bright emerald flickered towards Lovino for a moment, their joy dimming into caution until he turned away. Romano cringed and forced himself to turn to his brother, who was now studying the field with an odd determination, his eyes cool and calculating, just searching for an opening, a chance...

_Two_.

Another hiss, a small cry of dismay from the Italian twins that now stood side-by-side, their hands inching closer until their fingertips brushed with every movement. Feliciano trembled with anger and disappointment, his hazel eyes flying over his shoulder, searching for solace from the friends that were groaning in disappointment and sympathy for his loss. Japan and Germany nodded to Italy in a show of silent support, their shoulders brushing against the other countries that had decided to cheer for Italy in the final. Just Italy, though. Not Romano.

_They never cheer for me..._

No, that was a lie. _Spain_ cheered for Romano. _Spain_ was always in the stands for him, his green eyes gleaming and dimming with every goal for and against Lovino's team, his perfect white teeth shining against his lips with every cheer and groan that he uttered, his chest and abs always covered with the cool blue of the Italian team's uniform, with the bright reds, whites, and greens of Italy's flag. Of Romano's flag.

But now... Now those same eyes gleamed with every triumph of Romano's enemy. Now those teeth glowed and that voice rose in a cheer for Lovino's loss, now that perfect body was covered with the bloody reds and cruel golds of the team that was destroying all remaining Italian pride.

Now there was no one to cheer for Romano, no one to mourn for him. Only his brother.

Lovino frowned and shook off his sorrow, his lips opening for another shout of encouragement, another quick swear for his goalie before he offered words of comfort for his brother.

The Italians stood side-by-side, their heads held high as half-time was called, their fingers now intertwined as they followed their team off of the field.

…...

_Three_.

Lovino screamed in fury, his eyes closing as if to block out the image of the soccer ball flying past his goalie, of the score reading 3-0 on the screen. Feliciano flinched but continued to hold his brother's hand as several additional swears broke through Romano's lips, a small curse breaking through the Northern Italian's lips as the game continued.

The representation of Southern Italy forced himself to hold back the other curses and swears that threatened to erupt from his mouth, his free hand reaching out to clap his brother on the shoulder. He couldn't help but frown when Feliciano turned around again, when the Northern Italian looked up to Germany and Japan and Hungary for comfort, when Italy turned around again, his sorrowful features broken by the smallest of smiles. Lovino flinched as if the other Italian had personally driven a knife into his side and refocused on his players, forced himself to concentrate on keeping up their moral, kept himself from looking towards the other end of the field where everyone was cheering, where the one country that should be cheering for Romano was now celebrating his defeat.

_Four_.

There were no curses now.

Lovino gritted his teeth and allowed Feliciano to squeeze all of the blood from his hand, his amber eyes wet even as he forced his cheeks to stay dry. Beside him, Italy moaned and opened his mouth to scream one final encouragement as the game drew to a close, his hazel eyes full of tears that would soon spill across his face. Romano heard Hungary call down to Feliciano, urging him to stay strong, and wished that she would think to tell him the same, to remember that him and Italy weren't the same person.

Spain was staring at his team, at the goal that had given his country so many points. Romano watched with bitter pride as the Spaniard turned stunned green eyes towards his fans in the stadium, as that beautiful, heart-wrenching smile of pure joy spread across Antonio's face and his fist rose into the air, as Prussia, France, and America leaped to their feet and cheered, as Antonio's smile widened and his emeralds flashed to where Lovino was waiting...

It was over.

Feliciano choked on a sob and released his brother's hand, his auburn hair turning into a brown streak against emerald and white as he ran into Germany and Hungary's waiting arms. Lovino watched with a numb sorrow as his brother was comforted, as Japan approached to pat Italy's shoulder with a tentative hand.

Romano turned away then, unable to watch. His eyes swept over the field, flickering past the faces of his weeping and devastated countrymen, over the resigned faces of his coach and his boss, the over-joyed expressions of the Spanish, Antonio's bright green eyes, filled to the brim with happiness and shock...

Spain was waving at him, demanding Romano's attention. Antonio's smile dimmed when Lovino returned his gaze with a tired glare. The Spaniard hesitated, his hands tugging anxiously at the bottom of his sweaty jersey. Romano sighed, unable to be amused at Spain's discomfort, and started to turn away.

"Lovi!"

Romano turned around again, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

_What the hell does he want?_

Spain smiled tentatively and slowly lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing the powder-blue jersey hiding underneath, the tiny Italian flag sewn onto its surface. Romano simply stared, his wide amber eyes lifting to meet warm emerald. Antonio smiled again and cupped his hand over his lips, his voice carrying easily across the field.

"I was cheering for you, _mi amor_! _Te amo_! (**I love you**)."

Lovino felt his lips lift into a tiny smile, one that would stay with him as his team received their silver medals with stony faces and defiant stares, as the Antonio and his team cheered and lifted their trophy into the air, as Spain finally waded his way through the crowds with open arms and a gentle smile, his green eyes still cautious in case Romano's famous temper made an appearance.

The Southern Italian continued to smile, his eyes flashing warily around the field before he allowed himself to return Spain's embrace, a small tear spilling from his eyes as he finally let go of his pride. Antonio's smile softened and he tightened his grip on the Italian, his eyes widening slightly when Romano lifted his hand and brushed a curtain of auburn hair away from his forehead, revealing the tiny Spanish flag painted onto his skin.

"...I was cheering for you, too..."


End file.
